


The Fae Eat The Dursleys

by RagingLamb



Series: Fae and Fate [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Death, Evil Albus Dumbledore, Good Severus Snape, Good Tom Riddle, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sirius Black Gets a Trial, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin Raise Harry Potter, Slytherin Harry Potter, Tom Riddle's Diary, burn mention, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:54:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27752623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RagingLamb/pseuds/RagingLamb
Summary: The Good Neighbors think the Dursleys are bad neighbors and bad people; they act accordingly, and Harry Potter is a vastly different person for it. Dumbledore isn't happy.  The wizarding world is confused. And Snape? Snape is tired.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Luna Lovegood & Harry Potter
Series: Fae and Fate [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086545
Comments: 57
Kudos: 432





	1. The Beginning

The Dursleys would say their trouble started as soon as Harry appeared on their doorstep. The Dursleys would be wrong. They sowed the seeds early on with every cruel remark and neglectful action towards the child in their care, but their trouble really began when Petunia put Harry to work in the garden.

In the garden, Harry spoke to snakes and beings far more dangerous. One day, while he pulled weeds from around the rose bushes, there were eyes, almost glowing from under the shade of them. The little boy found himself entranced and spoke to them until his aunt stormed out, screeching about his lack of progress in weeding. As he was dragged roughly back inside, those too bright eyes watched on.

The next morning the milk had gone off despite the jug being a week from its expiry date. The Dursleys blamed the grocery store; obviously, it was mislabeled.

When Harry was beaten up in the garden by Dudley and his friends, the bullies felt rose thorns in their shoes that they couldn’t find for days.

Uncle Vernon handled Harry roughly and found himself face to face with an irate raccoon nesting in his car.

The strange events went on and on as Harry continued to be mistreated by his relatives until one day, they found the boy sitting quietly in the garden, near the fence, staring into the rosebushes. Vernon yanked the boy inside, intending to lock him away in the cupboard immediately.

Nobody heard from the Dursleys after that.


	2. Worlds Collide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I upload a new chapter like thirty minutes after the first because I couldn't stop editing the second chapter and the outline? Yes, yes I did. Hope y'all enjoy!

When Harry Potter resurfaced in the wizarding world, he wasn’t what anyone expected. His hair was long and untamable in ways that put James’ unruly mop to shame and there appeared to be rose stems sticking out of it. His eyes couldn’t be compared to Lily’s anymore, they were sharper, and the pupils seemed to almost be slits, though that had to be some trick of the light. His teeth were ever so slightly sharper than they should be and when his tongue went to swipe over them, anyone who saw felt unease pool in their belly.

=====================================================================================

The Headmaster thought that perhaps all of that wildness was the Dursley’s doing, perhaps they’d been rougher on the boy than he’d anticipated. The Headmaster, of course, was wrong.

=====================================================================================

None of the traps set for the boy, designed to pull him into a confrontation with Voldemort worked. Any mention of the stone, of Snape, of the Dark Lord himself; none of it caused the boy to strike out to solve the mystery and do heroic deeds. If it weren’t for absolutely everything else, Albus Dumbledore would be tempted to call the boy boring.

Harry Potter was not boring. He spent large chunks of his school days learning everything that he could. He knew that rules were important and so, he was learning the rules of this strange new place in which he found himself. He watched and listened and, when the time came, he would act.

**=====================================================================================**

Severus Snape had been hadn’t expected much from Harry Potter as he prepared himself for the most dreaded year of his teaching career. He expected a carbon copy of James Potter, an awful arrogant brat. He wasn’t expecting the wild thing that sauntered into the Great Hall looking as if he’d marched straight out of a fight with the contents of Pomona’s seventh year green house. He wasn’t expecting strange, but familiar eyes to lock onto his and make him feel as if his very soul was bare.

=====================================================================================

He wasn’t expecting a Slytherin.

Severus wasn’t sure what to do with this Harry Potter who was so different from anything he could have expected; he wasn’t like James Potter, nor was he like Lily. He was a taken child, Severus realized while staring at the boy where he sat at the end of the Slytherin table staring at the feast.

=====================================================================================

“It is freely given, Mr. Potter,” Snape said, gesturing to the feast laid before him, “As long as you are a student of Hogwarts, your meals are always freely given.”

Before the professor could turn to return to the staff table, Harry was already loading up his plate and neatly tucking in. Severus allowed himself a small, private smile before turning back towards the table where Dumbledore was staring daggers at Harry, no doubt hoping to take a look into the boy’s mind and, perhaps, plant a few ideas there as well.

=====================================================================================

The people around him speak boldly about how much of a credit it is to Slytherin to have the boy who lived among their ranks, how much the lions must be seething to see the savior of the light go to the house they labeled as evil. The fact that a whole house was assigned a morality tripped Harry up enough that he looked up from his plate, locking eyes with one his year mates, a blond boy with soft features and cool gray eyes.

“They think this house is evil? Why would they think that?”

The boy didn’t squirm under his intense gaze, even as those around them did. He simply responded with all of the confidence and comfort that Harry had asked with, “It’s been said that all of the evil wizards come from Slytherin, the dark lord himself did, but evil wizards have come up from every house in Hogwarts at one time or another.”

Harry nodded along until the boy suddenly stuck out his hand, “I’m Malfoy, by the way, Draco Malfoy.”

=====================================================================================

“Mr. Potter, may I have a word?” Snape asked after his annual start-of-term lecture to his Slytherins.

“Grotesque,” Harry replied

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, “No, Mr. Potter. I meant to say, can I speak with you for a moment?”

Harry nodded and followed the billowing black robes when Snape beckoned for him to do so.

The room they arrived in, through a portrait hidden tunnel in the common room, was rather cozy by Harry’s standards. The jars of specimens didn’t faze him, nor did the strong herbal smell of the office. All that struck him was that the room was cluttered like the one’s he’d occupied with the fae. The dark green shifting that Harry could see through the window only window by the light of the torches in the room was strangely beautiful.

The room was like a little slice of home in the center of this unfamiliar new place.

“Now, Mr. Potter, I can tell that all of this is new to you. Am I right to assume that you are fae-touched?”

Harry looked up into the man’s dark eyes (so very like his office’s window) and nodded. “And you?” He asked in return.

Severus chuckled before nodding himself and saying, “Yes, I am also fae-touched. And I would suspect it’s for reasons not all that different from your own.

“You see, Mr. Potter, the fae have an affinity for children, bright or magical children especially. And obviously, I was a magical child just like you.

“However,” Severus said, “My father did not see me or my mother as gifts in his life, rather I believe he saw us as unnatural burdens he’d been shackled with, so he did not treat us well, to say the least. Most magical parents know how to keep their children safe, to keep them out of the fae’s hands. It is rather easy to keep fae hands away from something if one knows what they are doing, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Harry nodded and Severus continued, “But after all the abuse my father doled out, my mother no longer thought I was safer at home than in the hands of the fae and so she let those ‘protections’ slip and me away with them.”

Harry was openly staring with tears like quicksilver dripping down his face. He’d never heard of a love quite like that, even among the fae who loved like wildfire. To let someone go beyond your reach . . . Harry couldn’t imagine the love that required.

Snape interrupted his thoughts, handing him a tissue, “It’s getting rather late, Mr. Potter. I think you should head off to bed and we can discuss the rules and expectations for your stay here another time,” and he smiled at Harry, “anytime you need me, you may come to me. Good night.”

So, Harry went to sleep in the first year dorm, where Draco was already fast asleep and snoring and fell asleep to the sound of it and of waves hitting ancient stone.


	3. Lemon Drops and Turbans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the end of the chapter for content warning.

Harry woke up early the next day, as he always did. Draco was still snoring in the next bed over and the other four boys were still asleep as well, so Harry rose alone and went to shower and prepare for the next day. Then he sat and read through _Hogwarts: A History_ while the other boys woke up and got ready. Draco took the longest, but Harry waited patiently for the boy to be done so they could walk down to breakfast together.

Breakfast at the Slytherin table was a relatively quiet affair with some polite conversation passing between the students as they ate. Meanwhile, the Gryffindor table was so loud it could be hear clear across the hall.

Throughout that first meal, Harry noticed that he was being stared down at from the staff table by both the Headmaster and the professor who wore a large turban. While that was uncomfortable, he was able to make himself more comfortable by observing his peers and learning some of the unspoken rules of this place.

A Slytherin was not to overly express themselves in front of the rest of the school. They were to comport themselves like the proper lords and ladies they would one day be. Slurping and burping and putting one’s elbows on the table were all discouraged, as was talking with a full mouth.

This was the easy part: sitting with his house where he only had to worry about the most basic set of rules. It got harder as the day went on.

Harry often found himself irritated throughout the day, as the other students spoke in ways that tripped him up after a life spent with the fae, who spoke so carefully. These children were careless with their words, throwing them around like they meant nothing, and Harry could hardly stand it. Then Quirrell wouldn’t stop staring at him while he stuttered through his lecture during Defense. And to top it all off the room stank to high heaven and his head hurt.

As Harry was leaving the room with the other Slytherins, he could’ve sworn he heard a whispered voice say, “So, this is Harry Potter,” in a voice too deep to be a student’s but too smooth to be Quirrell’s. But when he looked back at Quirrell the man just smiled at him and waved him off. So, Harry hurried out of the room.

And he bumped into Dumbledore.

He would’ve just apologized and continued on, but . . .

“Harry, my dear boy, I’d like to speak with you if you have a moment.” And unfortunately, Harry did.

Dumbledore’s office was cluttered, but it wasn’t anything like Snape’s, not homey at all. Especially with the desiccated husk of a bird that was perched in the corner of the room, looking an inch away from death. Harry glanced nervously at the bird, which let out a sputtering cough that sent several of its few remaining feathers up in flames. The room smelled like old people and something burning.

“Would you like a lemon drop, Harry?” the old man asked, holding out a small bowl of the candies, breaking into Harry’s thoughts.

Harry shook his head and watched as the gleam in the man’s eyes dimmed for a moment, a shiver going down his spine. Right then, Harry decided he didn’t like Dumbledore.

Dumbledore ended up launching into a lecture about what had made Harry into “The Boy Who Lived” which did the opposite of what Dumbledore intended and actually made Harry’s blood begin to simmer. His parents had died protecting him, had stood up to the Dark Lord, and Dumbledore had honored their sacrifice by leaving him on the Dursleys’ porch in the middle of the night.

“If I may say so Harry, your aunt and uncle raised you to be a fine young man.” And right then, Harry knew. Not only was that a bold-faced lie as far as Dumbledore was concerned but, Dumbledore had never checked in on him, had probably never thought twice about what he’d done to Harry, probably didn’t—wouldn’t—care either.

And Harry _hated_ him.

=====================================================================================

The rest of the term was much the same, though he did grow a bit closer with the other first year Slytherins, especially Draco who felt just a bit like home. He also had tea once a week with Professor Snape.

Most surprising was that he made friends with three Gryffindor first years: Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. It was a strange friendship too, at least Draco seemed to think so.

He’d partnered with Hermione during one class and felt comforted by how closely she followed the rules there, so he partnered with her in other mixed house classes, and then they’d started talking and studying together.

Neville had been assigned to be his partner in Herbology (while Hermione was partnered with Draco) and the boy had been . . . sweet. He’d talked endlessly to Harry about the plants in his family greenhouses and walked Harry through any steps he needed help with during their classes. Soon enough he’d joined in on Harry and Hermione’s study sessions.

Ron was the one that Harry found weird. Ron had just sort of taken to inviting himself to things, butting in on study sessions and discussions. He’d gotten into arguments with Hermione and Draco plenty of times, but he cooled down as time went on and actually started to get on with the rest of the group.

And Draco basically did what Ron did and just stuck with Harry, sending jabs at the others until he cooled down enough to only occasionally snipe at them.

=====================================================================================

Between his new friends, studying, and tea, weird things were going on.

Hagrid, the kind giant gamekeeper, occasionally invited Harry over to have tea and rock cakes on the weekends and the man would talk admiringly about Dumbledore. He’d talk about his pets and the most wonderful creatures the wizarding world had to offer. And once or twice he talked about being sent to pick up something before the start of term, about something secret that was hidden in the castle. He also talked about three headed dogs.

Then one day he had a baby dragon which Harry and his friends had snuck out of the castle through Ron’s older brother, Charlie. They’d all gotten detention for that one, but it wasn’t all that bad as Snape had appeared alongside Filch and so the detentions were spent in his classroom cleaning cauldrons.

And of course, there was the troll that appeared in the dungeons on Halloween, though Harry didn’t actually see that one which he was perfectly content with.

Then it was time for winter break which saw Draco and Hermione returning home, along with most of the students, including all the other first year Slytherins apart from Harry.

He was surprised to find that he’d gotten presents come Christmas morning. Draco and Hermione had been rather practical, gifting him a snitch and a book of self-care charms, respectively. Neville got him a mint plant. Ron got him a chest set. Ron’s mother had sent homemade fudge and a knitted sweater with an H on it. Hagrid gifted him a hand carved flute. Snape had even gotten him a book about potion ingredients.

Then there was the cloak which was wrapped in plain brown paper and which had no tag to show who it was from, but which Harry knew deep down had to be from Dumbledore. An invisibility cloak, a true invisibility cloak was a rare commodity, though, and Harry wouldn’t throw it out or give it up just because it was from a creepy old man with a staring problem. So, he buried it in his trunk until he had a need for it.

=====================================================================================

In the end, Harry was right to be leery of Quirrell who stuttered and stared.

Near the end of term, in one of the rare moments when Harry was alone. When he was actually on his way from Snape’s weekly tea, to an afternoon study session with his friends, Quirrell cornered him, guided him away from the direction of the library.

Quirrell took him to the third-floor corridor and manhandled him through the door, into a room with a three headed dog which Quirrell put to sleep with a spelled harp. From there Harry was stunned and dragged through the Devil’s Snare, through the key room, past the giant chess board, the potions riddle, the fire. Until they were in a chamber with only a mirror. A mirror with strange writing along the top of the frame.

When they reached that room, where fire blocked the exit, Quirrell released Harry.

“Now Potter, stand in front of the mirror and tell me what you see.” He said, pointing his wand at Harry where he lay on the floor.

Because he had no chance in a fight against a full-grown wizard, Harry did just that. The mirror didn’t seem to show anything special, just him, but then the light shifted, and his reflection moved without him moving first. His reflection smiled at him and suddenly his friends were there behind him, but when Harry turned around there was only Quirrell with his wand still trained on Harry.

“It’s just me and my friends, we’re smiling. We’re really happy.” Harry said and his heart beat against his ribs as he stared into the mirror, into what he didn’t realize was his deepest desire in that moment. Him and his friends. Happy.

“You lying little brat!” Quirrell shouted in the same moment that the Harry in the mirror dropped something into his pocket and Harry felt his robes shift as if his reflection and dropped something into his own pocket.

Quirrell was flying at him, clawing at him in an attempt to hold him down and interrogate him, at the behest of that whispering voice that Harry had heard all those months ago at the start of the year. Harry reached out and grabbed a loose end of the man’s turban and yanked it loose, sending fabric spiraling into Quirrell’s face. It was just enough for Harry to squirm out from under Quirrell and bolt to the other side of the chamber.

Harry felt sick when he saw the back of Quirrell’s head. There was a stretched and distorted face on the back of the man’s head. A face with red, slitted eyes and a squashed flat nose.

“You will give us the stone, Harry Potter, or you will die,” the face said in that chilling whisper like voice.

“What stone?” He asked, looking the face in its red eyes.

Harry felt his head start to hurt again, a sharper stabbing pain right between his eyes, where the thickest part of his scar sat, then the face began to laugh, a sound like gravel in a blender.

“You truly do not know? Dumbledore didn’t even think to warn you about what he was protecting and what it was being protected from! The old coot didn’t think to warn you that he was putting your life in danger!”

Harry stood, stunned still, as Voldemort’s words sunk in, as they rang true. Everything clicked into place. The old man had set him up to end the year here, face to face with his parents’ murderer all alone. Harry remembered Hagrid going on in awe about what a great man Dumbledore was, dropping hints all the way about some precious thing hidden in the castle, talking about three headed dogs, gifting flutes. He remembered the cloak and the warning at the start of year feast, to stay out of the third-floor corridor. And how Dumbledore had watched him all the while.

Voldemort saw the look on his face and was sent back into hysterics, “He left you defenseless!” the Dark Lord cackled.

Then Quirrell straightened, still keeping Voldemort faced towards Harry, and Voldemort spoke, “Now, give me the stone and I’ll be on my way, boy.”

Harry let his hand drift over his robe pocket, where he could feel the weight of the stone. He didn’t want to play into Dumbledore’s hands, and he didn’t know what Voldemort would gain by getting ahold of some random rock, but he knew it wouldn’t end well for him if he were to hand it over.

“Oh,” Harry said, finally drawing the stone out into the light where it gleamed a gorgeous red, “This stone?” He held it out towards Quirrell as if inviting the man to walk over and take it from him, then raised it over his head and whipped it across the room, over the wall of fire at the far end.

Quirrell and Voldemort let out twin cries and lunged as one to grab at the stone, heedless of the fire in their way.

The sight was horrific, but Harry couldn’t turn away as they burned, crumbling slowly into ash and billowing black smoke that stunk worse than Dumbledore’s office. The screams echoed through the chamber until there was nothing left of them. And then the fire died down and Harry was alone in the darkened chamber, empty except for the stone which gleamed where it had landed on the floor.

When Dumbledore burst onto the scene followed by McGonagall and Snape, Harry told him that the stone had burned up in the fire alongside the Dark Lord. The old man looked disappointed for a moment, but assured him that it was okay, that his friend, Nicholas Flamel, would understand that it was done to stop Voldemort.

=====================================================================================

Once the fuss had died down and Harry had been looked over by Madame Pomphrey, he went to Severus’ office where the man was grading the final papers of the year and placed the stone on his desk.

Snape looked up at him with calculating black eyes, “You know the headmaster would not be pleased to hear that the Philosopher’s stone wasn’t destroyed.”

It wasn’t a question, but Harry nodded anyway. “I think Nicholas Flamel would be happy though.”

Snape nodded and wrote out a quick note, explaining the situation before efficiently wrapping up the stone and handing it over to the dark owl perched in the corner of his office. Off the owl went, burdened by a small red stone and knowledge of a most profound betrayal.

=====================================================================================

The year ended without much further fanfare. Unless one counted Ron’s grumbling about Slytherin winning the House Cup. And the invitation to stay with his family for part of the summer.

Harry said goodbye to his friends, and to Severus before walking into the Forbidden Forest as the other students boarded the Hogwarts Express. He took one moment to look out over the beauty of the school grounds before returning to the world that had raised him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for nongraphic mention of a character burning to death.


	4. Gnomes and Nargles and Basilisks, Oh My!

A few weeks before the start of term, when it came time for Harry to return to the wizarding world, he just appeared on the Weasleys’ front step with his trunk and his owl, not a guardian in sight. But Ron had warned the Weasleys about Harry’s strangeness, so they didn’t worry about it too much.

Harry took to the Burrow as easy as breathing, even if some aspects of it were rather surreal. Like Molly, Molly was rather strange, at least in Harry’s eyes. She was rather bossy, but gentle all the same (for the most part). And she worried about Harry, not like how Snape had made sure he knew the rules and ate and didn’t die. No, Molly worried about Harry washing up before dinner and eating his greens and even tried to get the thorns out of his hair. (She failed, but still.)

Stranger still was Ginny, who blushed and ducked away when Harry caught her watching him. She was very strange, indeed, and unlike Molly who was a mother, Harry couldn’t explain why Ginny did what she did. He also got the impression that Ginny was doted on more than Ron and his brothers were, probably because she was the only girl, though Harry didn’t quite understand why that mattered so much, but Ron assured him that it did.

Harry understood Arthur better than Molly, and maybe liked him better too. He understood Arthur’s fascination with muggle things because it matched Harry’s fascination with basically everything in the Burrow. Arthur was a soft man brimming with brilliant curiosity and Harry loved him for it.

Then there was Percy, who Harry found stiff, but dependable when it came to learning the rules and expectations. Molly was quite proud of Percy.

Finally, there were the twins, who Harry was quite taken with. They were quick to see something they liked in Harry and monopolized quite a bit of his time at the Burrow, whenever they could squirrel him away from Ron. They enlisted his help in formulating pranks and brainstorming ideas for new innovations in pranking. Harry loved them a bit too, like he loved Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Draco. They were kind to him and never let him get into any trouble alone during those few weeks, though they did occasionally use him to keep out of trouble with Molly.

Harry enjoyed the cluttered coziness of the Burrow and the dynamic of the inhabitants. He loved the comfortable magical aura. He even enjoyed de-gnoming the garden with Ron and the twins, twirling the pointy hatted nuisances before chucking them over the property line was rather cathartic.

He did not enjoy their trip to Diagon Alley.

Lockhart dragged him up in front of a crowd to get his picture taken. He was promptly bit. The man shook out his hand which was bleeding just a bit. Yet the man still smiled at the cameras that were flashing all around before dumping a pile of books into Harry’s arms and ushering him away as if he hadn’t just gotten bit by a feral child.

Then Lucius Malfoy appeared in the bookstore with an unhappy Draco in tow and very nearly got into a fist fight with Mr. Weasley after the man insulted Ginny’s secondhand books.

As a child who had been in secondhand clothes up until the fae had taken him, Harry wasn’t at all appreciative of Lucius’ elitist attitude. And poor Draco looked horribly embarrassed by his father being so rude to his friend’s family.

At least Harry got to buy a Nimbus 2001 before they left Diagon Alley.

=====================================================================================

When the start of term came around and all of the children were bustled off to the train, Harry and Ron found themselves seperated from the herd when they slammed into the barrier between platforms 9 and 10.

They didn’t take the flying Ford Anglina. Instead, Harry pulled Ron to an isolated and overgrown lot, a tiny patch of wild a few short blocks from Kings Cross. They walked into a monstrous shrub and came out the other side at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Ron was promptly sick, and Harry patted him on the shoulder. Then they made their way to the castle, where they sought out Snape. Snape allowed the boys to use his private floo to fire call the Weasleys to explain what had happened and that they were safe at school.

The next few hours were peacefully endured in Snape’s office which Harry found cozy, but Ron found creepy. Neither was aware of the stupid little bastard elf who was slamming his head in an over door in the Hogwarts kitchens.

=====================================================================================

Harry met her by the lake one day, when he was looking to get away from the hustle of the castle. She was younger than him, he thought, she certainly looked younger than him, all blue eyes and spun gold hair. Her name, he found out, was Luna. He found out that he rather liked her too.

Harry found out that the other Ravenclaws hid Luna’s things, called her “Loony”. They found out what walking on rose thorns felt like. And when they searched their shoes there was nothing to be found, not until days later when they turned their shoes over for the hundredth time and bloody thorns spilled out.

Luna’s things stopped disappearing. She got called Loony less and less.

Harry liked Luna.

Luna was like a balm to his frazzled nerves, more potent than quiet teatime in Snape’s office even, and for the longest time Harry wasn’t sure why.

=====================================================================================

The petrifications sent waves of terror through the student body. And the message in blood on the wall only made things worse.

But Harry heard a voice raving about blood and violence and when he told his friends about it, Luna piped up out of nowhere, in her dreamy voice, saying “Harry’s a parselmouth.”

Harry and his friends weren’t scared, not the way the other students were. There was no blind paranoid terror in them. They knew what lurked in Hogwarts’ ancient halls. Hermione was quick to puzzle out the assailant’s identity after Luna revealed that Harry could speak to snakes. There was only one snake that could cause the kind of mayhem they were seeing.

A basilisk was loose in Hogwarts.

Draco told them that he’d write his father to find out what he could about the last time the Chamber was opened.

=====================================================================================

Unfortunately for Harry, Lockhart didn’t drop off the face of the Earth after their run-in in Diagon Alley. Instead, the man had somehow been hired on as the DADA professor. And he sucked at his job. Lockhart was leaps and bounds worse than Quirrell had been (and he’d been possessed by Voldemort).

Getting teeth pulled would’ve been preferable to listening to the idiot monologue. His tests were completely useless. Lockhart would wax poetic about his supposed accomplishments without relaying a single scrap of useful information.

At least Harry had his friends. Had Luna. Had . . . the diary.

Yes, the diary which he’d found abandoned in the library, completely blank and bearing a name that was completely foreign to Harry, as well as every person he asked. So, he kept it, fully intending to use it as a journal.

At least until he went to write in it and found that the ink disappeared from the page. Until someone wrote back.

His name was Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle. And Harry was entranced. The boy in the diary listened to Harry, even seemed to understand him. Harry could hardly believe how wonderful Tom seemed, couldn’t understand how someone could leave him alone in the library.

Harry would write every night, about his day, his classes, the petrifications that were still ongoing, though more spaced out. Tom would return the favor by telling Harry stories about his time in Hogwarts before he was a diary. He’d been a prefect (well on his way to being Head Boy) and top of his class. Eventually, he opened up about his life before Hogwarts, about the fae and an orphanage called Wools.

He was born in the orphanage to a destitute mother with nothing to her name, nothing to leave Tom besides his own name. That first stint in the orphanage was hazy in his mind, he hadn’t stayed there all that long, after all. The fae took him when he was very young, when the orphans took their yearly trip to the seashore.

He stayed with them, like Harry had, until it was time for him to attend Hogwarts. He’d had a hard time of it, that first year. He had been strange. He had struggled, but he had survived.

Tom didn’t return to the fae after that. Instead, Dumbledore returned him to the orphanage where he’d been born. And how Tom hated it.

The other orphans were cruel to him because they found him freakish with his wild eyes and strange powers. Other than that, Tom didn’t have much to say about his time in Wools. Instead he focused on telling Harry about his time at Hogwarts, about how he found a new home there, about how he loved it so.

Harry felt sorry for Tom. Because Harry knew that even though Tom didn’t say so, he missed the fae realm. Harry missed it too when he was at school.

=====================================================================================

When Draco’s father responded, he didn’t give much information, simply stating that the Chamber was opened fifty years ago, before his time at Hogwarts. But that was really all it took to send Hermione on the hunt. Of course, she found what she was looking for, she was Hermione.

Moaning Myrtle was what she found. A ghost just fifty years old who haunted a restroom and mourned her own death. The general population of Hogwarts found her annoying at best, and thus avoided her haunt which suited their purposes fine. It made it easy to get her alone.

Myrtle Warren was easy to feel pity for. Her grief at her own life being cut short was almost palpable and Harry felt it to his core how unfair it was that she’d died so young, more so that she had been mocked by the living for her grief ever since.

It was easy to make her smile, you just had to call her by her name, no modifier, and she’d give this hesitant little smile. Not many people had called her pretty when she’d been alive and none since she’s died, but she really was pretty when she smiled.

They hated to have to ask her about her death, hated to see that smile slowly slide off of her face, but there was no avoiding it. She told them about how she’d been crying because a girl named Olive Hornby had been making fun of her, how she’d heard a boy in the bathroom and come out to tell whoever it was to leave, and how she saw a pair of great big yellow eyes. The next thing she knew, she was a ghost. She’d only been fourteen.

What a tragedy.

=====================================================================================

After they spoke to Myrtle, she disappeared into a stall, leaving behind a slight chill in the air. The friends stood in it for a while. They weren’t much younger than she had been. They were all so terribly young.

Together they began searching around the sinks, looking for something—anything that could be a sign of the Chamber, until Ron found a faucet that wasn’t quite like the other. Upon closer inspection it was obvious: a snake. Leave it to Salazar Slytherin.

Harry concentrated on the little metal snake and commanded it to, “ _Open.”_

There was a hiss and the sinks began to slide apart and down into the floor, revealing a dark tunnel. Harry almost very literally threw himself into it before Hermione reminded him that they had magic and transfigured one of her quills into a sturdy coil of rope. They applied a sticking charm to keep the rope attached to one of the sinks outside the tunnel and then they climbed down one by one.

It was dark and damp and cold in the tunnel, but there didn’t seem to be any immediate danger. No giant snakes in sight. But Harry suggested that the others stay back unless he called for help, just in case something bad happened, he didn’t want them all stuck and unable to help because they were in the fire they were trying to douse.

And unfortunately for Harry’s friends, they couldn’t fault his logic.

So, they waited just outside of what they thought to be the Chamber, and in Harry went, to face the basilisk.

He kept his eyes firmly shut once he was stood in front of the unnecessarily massive statue of Salazar Slytherin’s face. He’d seen the obvious seams around the mouth and had a fairly good idea of what they were for. Harry wasn’t surprised that when he hissed at the statue to _open_ that he heard the sound of stone sliding against stone followed by something heavy dragging along.

“ _Speaker? What do you want?_ ” asked the snake.

“ _I want you to leave the students here alone._ ”

“ _And why should I? I have been asleep for centuries and the little humans are good fun._ ”

“ _Because it is dangerous_ ,” Harry replied.

“ _Oh, and what could be dangerous for me?_ ”

“ _You did this once before and you were locked away, do it again and it might be forever. You’re scaring them and when humans are scared, they react poorly. If they were to find your nest, they would kill you. This is your danger.”_

Harry felt a great big tongue flutter about him, felt the tip just barely graze him. “ _And what do you suggest I_ do _little human?”_

 _“Go to the forest. There is prey for you, and if you go deep enough, there are no humans to bother. And the things that keep the humans away are no danger to you,”_ Harry responded smoothly. Talking to something as ancient and magical as the basilisk reminded him of home.

“ _I think . . . I think that is a good idea, little speaker. Yes. I will go to the forest. I will be free there for the rest of my days. No one will lock me away and nothing will kill me.”_

Harry bowed at waist, “ _Thank you.”_

=====================================================================================

When Harry opened his eyes again, the basilisk was gone. He returned to his friends who crowded around him once he was out of the Chamber. Together, they returned to Myrtle’s bathroom, happy to be done with the whole affair.

“So, what did you tell it?” Ron asked.

“The truth,” Harry said.

“That’s a bit cryptic, don’t you think?” Hermione asked.

“I told it that it was safer as deep in the forbidden forest as it could go than it would ever be in Hogwarts. Nobody to kill it or trap it and enough big prey to keep it full for the rest of its life.”

Draco snorted, “And it accepted that? What does it have to be scared of in Hogwarts?”

Harry stared at him for a moment, stunned at his friend’s lack of understanding, “They almost closed the school the last time this happened, Draco, and they might’ve done it this time if the attacks didn’t stop. If the Heir locks the basilisk up and the school closes forever, the basilisk is trapped forever. You think it wants that?”

“I—no. I don’t think anyone wants that.”

=====================================================================================

When Harry wrote to Tom to tell him about his day and how dealing with the basilisk went, he was expecting the boy to congratulate him. He wasn’t expecting Tom to be angry, but he was. More accurately: he was _livid_.

 _What do you mean, the basilisk is gone?!_ Tom asked.

 _I mean that it’s not in the school anymore, it’s living happily out in the forbidden forest where nobody will ever bother it again,_ Harry replied.

The conversation went on like that for some time and Harry couldn’t understand why until Tom just spelled it out for him, that he was the Heir of Slytherin (that he would have been Voldemort if he hadn’t been the unlucky piece to be trapped in the diary), so of course, he was upset about the basilisk being sent away, about the attacks being stopped.

Harry slammed the diary closed. He put up a privacy charm. And he screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

He thought about throwing the diary into the fireplace, but he was struck by something Tom had written. “ _The unlucky piece to be trapped in the diary._ ” Tom was so much like Harry, even if he was the Heir, even if he was part Voldemort. Tom was trapped and had been trapped for a very long time. He was like the basilisk.

He couldn’t bring himself to talk to Tom for a couple of weeks, just went about going to classes and weekly tea and doing his work. He didn’t tell his friends about him. They wouldn’t understand why he kept it around. He loved them, but they weren’t like Tom and him.

He spent so many nights with the diary open in his lap and a quill poised over the page, trying to think of what to write, what needed to be said.

One night, while Harry was bundled up with the diary behind the curtains of his bed; a single drop of ink fell from the tip onto the page and promptly disappeared.

_Hello?_

Harry shook his head angrily. _It’s just me,_ he responded.

Tom must’ve recognized his chicken scratch. He didn’t respond.

Eventually Harry took to writing about his days and the events in the wizarding world that he gleaned from the Daily Prophet. He figured that after fifty years trapped in a book, anyone would be bored out of their skull.

Tom held his silence through to the end of the year.

_They ate him, didn’t they?_

=====================================================================================

At the end of the school year Lockhart was being let go due to endless student and parent complaints brought on by his incompetence. Before he left on that final day, he went for a walk by the edge of the forbidden forest.

He never returned to the castle and auror investigations turned up nothing. They chalked it up to some kind of creature attack and left it at that; the forest was dangerous, after all.

Nobody thought to consider that maybe Lockhart was a liar.

The fae are not fond of liars.


	5. Grims and Hopeful Reunions

When Harry emerged from the fae realm, midway through the summer before his third year, he was not expecting the level of chaos that greeted him. All of the Weasleys were nervous and twitchy about him, like they were worried, and Harry couldn’t get them to say why for a long time.

Eventually he overheard Arthur and Molly talking in hushed tones about a man named Sirius Black, his godfather. . . a murderer. They startled when Harry came into the kitchen where they were working to make breakfast before Arthur had to go to work and all of the kids were up. They asked him about what he heard, and he told them. But he wasn’t worried, not after the events of the last two years. After possessed professors and giant murder snakes, a regular guy wasn’t all that intimidating.

Arthur and Molly both looked ready to have a stroke when Harry told them this. They tried to explain to him how Sirius Black had betrayed his parents, how he’d killed a lot of people, that he very well might come for Harry. Harry . . . still wasn’t worried.

And when Harry visited Luna, making the hike from the Burrow to her rook shaped home, she just smiled at him and said he was right not to worry.

=====================================================================================

Tom thought he was stupid not to worry and told him so.

Harry smiled at the diary and closed it gently.

=====================================================================================

Harry wasn’t expecting anything to happen on the train ride, at least nothing more serious than he and his friends gorging themselves on trolley sweets.

But then the train had stopped early, and the air had frozen. And those dark figures had crowded around the train, getting closer, closer, sucking the very joy out of the air. Until the man sleeping in their carriage had sprung into action and cast some spell that sent thick silvery mist out of the tip of his wand which seemed to push the dark figures away.

And the warm and feeling returned to them. Except for Harry who still felt weak and shivery up until the man, Lupin, had him eat a bit of chocolate, claiming it would make him feel better. Which it did.

Lupin seemed almost . . . startled to see Harry. Not that Harry wasn’t used to that with his disheveled appearance.

The man left them, wanting to go speak to the train conductor.

“What the hell was that all about?” Ron asked, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

“Those were definitely dementors,” Neville said.

“But they’re supposed to be in Azkaban,” Draco reminded him.

Harry didn’t completely understand, but he got the gist of it.

The dementors weren’t supposed to be there and that they somehow were was bad.

=====================================================================================

Then there was the not murderous dogfather who appeared at his bedside in the Slytherin dorm one night a few weeks into term. The dementors had slowed him down at best.

Harry had been sleeping peacefully when he woke to a wet nose pressing into his arm and opened his eyes to see a grim standing at the side of his bed in the dark. And Harry wasn’t afraid.

He followed the grim into the common room, which was unsurprisingly empty that time of night, and watched it transform into a haggard man before his eyes. It was the same man in the wanted posters that he’d seen over the summer in the paper. It was his godfather.

Instead of running or screaming, Harry listened. He heard what Sirius had to say.

Sirius told his tale, of rage and revenge and sorrow and so, so much regret. He regretted going after Pettigrew instead of staying with Harry. He was so sorry to have left Harry behind. He begged for forgiveness, for the chance to make things right.

He told Harry about the rat. A rat who was sleeping with one of his dear friends, safe and warm and happy going on twelve years then. And Harry was filled with a simmering rage. He’d spent several painful years with the Dursleys, he’d been deprived of a normal, happy upbringing in the wizarding world. Sirius had been imprisoned for twelve years! And the rat who caused it was sleeping peacefully and had been every night for twelve years!

Harry forgave Sirius, he did.

=====================================================================================

When morning came, Harry went to Ron.

“I need to borrow Scabbers,” he said plainly.

And Ron, being used to Harry’s eccentricities, handed the rat over to his friend’s waiting hands, no questions asked.

=====================================================================================

“Stand back, Mr. Potter!” Snape shouted, pointing his wand at the grim standing behind the boy clutching a then struggling rat.

But Harry would not move, nor be moved, not even at the behest of his potions master, his ally.

He held up the rat which was making a valiant effort to bite at his fingers, and said, “This is Peter Pettigrew.”

Snape gawked.

“Sirius Black is innocent. My godfather is innocent.”

Snape hated that he loved Harry so much in that moment. More than he hated Sirius Black, he needed to do right by Harry Potter.

So, he cast the necessary enchantments on the rat. And the rat turned back into Peter Pettigrew who cowered and pleaded with each of them in turn, but who was ultimately petrified. The disgusting little man fell to the floor of Snape’s office with a very satisfying thud.

Harry took satisfaction in it.

He did not forgive Pettigrew.

=====================================================================================

Snape floo-called the aurors and they took Pettigrew and Sirius away.

For questioning and a proper trial, they explained, when Harry refused to let go of his godfather’s tattered robes.

Snape still had to take hold of him, so the aurors could leave with Sirius and Pettigrew both.

Nothing had been harder for Severus in a very long time than watching Harry collapse and cry as his godfather was taken away.

=====================================================================================

When news got out that Peter Pettigrew had been found and had, in fact, been hiding out as a pet rat for the last twelve years the entire Weasley family was shocked.

Percy paled dramatically, to the point that those around him thought he’d faint.

Ron grew pale then green and promptly threw up in his lap.

The twins were in hysterics, laughing at their brothers.

Ginny, the poor girl, just sat there processing the fact that the ancient family rat was actually a war criminal.

And he’d been sleeping with her older brother for years by then.

=====================================================================================

Perhaps the strangest aspect of Sirius Black’s trial was Albus Dumbledore’s presence.

He looked Sirius and Harry both in the eyes. And he lied.

It was subtle enough to come off as confusion from a hectic night to the members of the Wizengamot, but Harry and Sirius knew. It was a lie and neither of them were fond of liars.

When it became clear that Sirius was going to be a free man, after the questioning of him and Pettigrew both, Dumbledore began hinting at how he’d make an unfit guardian, saying that after so much time in Azkaban, exposed to the soul draining presence of the dementors, he must be a least somewhat unstable. 

The Wizengamot wasn’t impressed and told him, in no uncertain terms that Sirius’ fitness as a caretaker was not what was on trial, only his innocence.

Sirius’ fitness as a caretaker would be assessed by mind healers and, should he prove fit, it would be approved by Amelia Bones.

In the end, Sirius Black walked away, not only free, but a good bit richer than he had been. The ministry provided him with a hefty sum in restitution for the years he spent in Azkaban denied due process. It was enough for Sirius to buy a home for himself and Harry, a nice two-story cottage untouched by the dark memories that swamped his childhood home.

=====================================================================================

Tom was frankly disgusted when Harry told the tale, both by Dumbledore in general as well as Harry’s _emotions_.

 _I thought you liked living with the fae,_ Tom wrote.

 _I do,_ Harry responded, _but I also want to get to know Sirius._

_What does that washed up old man have to offer that you can’t get yourself anyway?_

_I think you know._

_I really don’t._

Harry glared down at the diary before sighing and putting his quill back to the parchment.

_A family. Can’t very well be a family of one can I?_

Tom didn’t respond to that. Though Harry was fairly sure he had some _opinions_ about Harry’s want for a family. Something about the unnecessary weakness of it, he imagined.

=====================================================================================

With Sirius’ signature, Harry was allowed to go to Hogsmeade. And with his father’s invisibility cloak, he was able to sneak Luna out as well.

She smiled brightly at him when she was able to come out from under the cloak and freely walk the cobbled streets. She was the only student below third year who was able to enjoy the luxury of being out in Hogsmeade. And they hadn’t even had to lie really. Nobody had asked about Luna, so they hadn’t told.

(The fact that nobody had known they should ask didn’t burden Harry at all. After all, it wasn’t his problem that they lacked the information to know what questions to ask.)

Hogsmeade was a lovely treat after the trials of well, the trial and Harry enjoyed experiencing it with his friends by his side.

They came, they saw, they gorged themselves on Honeydukes sweets.

And it was good.

=====================================================================================

Part of Sirius’ agreement with the Wizengamot was that he would be allowed to visit Harry during the weekends throughout the rest of the school year to get to know him before taking over his guardianship.

Harry heard more about his parents that year than he had in his whole life.

He’d heard some about his mother from Snape, of course, but Snape didn’t like to say much about James. Understandable given the only story Snape was willing to give was the story of the time that James had dangled him upside down with his underwear out in front of a group of gawking students.

He learned that his father had been a prankster, that he’d been an animagus: a stag. He’d been brave and clever and he’d loved Harry before he’d even been born.

Lily had too, but he’d already known that, had heard it before, because Snape had gotten occasional letters from Lily after graduation and had said as much time and time again.

His parents had loved him so much, Sirius said. They’d been so excited to watch him grow up and then so afraid that they might lose the chance. Then, because they loved him more than life, they gave up the chance to watch him grow and their lives along with it, so he would still get his chance at life.

Harry also learned about the genius that the Marauders possessed. Their ability to create an accurate, real-time map of Hogwarts that tracked people’s movements through the castle and becoming animagi while still students in Hogwarts.

Then there was Remus Lupin, who (awkwardly at first) tagged along to some of the meetings. He hadn’t wanted to believe Sirius to be guilty, but he’d doubted, and he was sorry. He wanted to grow close to both Sirius and Harry, to have some of what he’d lost all those years ago. So, he tagged along on walks across the school grounds and to Hogsmeade. He offered up his office for them to enjoy tea and biscuits in.

And they all felt warm in what was growing around them.

Snape was, frankly, disgusted.

=====================================================================================

Dumbledore tried to meet with Harry alone, but Harry called for Remus and Sirius to come with him and Dumbledore couldn’t deny a student that. Not without questions being asked.

He wanted to get the boy back under his thumb, as much Harry had ever been under his thumb. But he couldn’t do it with Sirius and Remus both hovering about like overprotective parents.

He tried and tried and never realized he’d already lost.

=====================================================================================

Christmas was spectacular that year.

Luna and her father hosted Harry, Sirius, and Remus through the break. They all decorated the house together, wrapping the chess piece in lights and glass baubles so it looked like a strange minimalist Christmas tree.

Then, on Christmas day, all five of them hiked over to the Burrow to enjoy Molly’s holiday feast and good company.

Fire whiskey and butterbeer flowed freely. Warm laughter filled the space. And the world felt like a perfect snapshot of happiness.

Sirius bought Harry the latest broom on the market, a Firebolt, and the children all took turns riding it and played quidditch until they collapsed.

Snape turned up towards the evening looking disgruntled even as Harry dragged him into the cozy warmth of the Burrow.

A picture was taken in the exact moment that Snape was scowling while pouring himself a glass of fire whiskey. He was wearing all black except for one spot of color. A Santa hat.

In the background? Sirius and Remus caught under the mistletoe. In a gentle, laughter-filled kiss.

=====================================================================================

The rest of term was enjoyed in relative peace with the exception of Dumbledore pushing to get Harry alone to _talk_. And the frantic chaos of exams, of course.

And there were also Patronus lessons with Remus every other week through the rest of term.

Because, even though the dementors had been removed from Hogwarts once Sirius and Pettigrew were apprehended, Remus remained concerned with how badly Harry reacted to them. The lessons saw Harry producing a silvery fox by the end of the year.

He just had to remember that beautiful Christmas to bring it to life.

=====================================================================================

Summer came around and Harry spent the first half, as he always did, with the fae. He chattered with them about Sirius and Remus and the new home he had with them. And the fae watched with bright, adoring eyes and gentle smiles full of sharp teeth.

They were happy to see him so content.

Once the second half of summer came, Harry appeared on the front step of his and Sirius’ new cottage near the Lovegood and Weasley residences in Ottery St. Catchpole.

He looked as he always did, though, somehow more so than the last time his guardians had seen him. Remus was a little alarmed at how his eyes glowed and his teeth gleamed and the thorns were thicker in his hair.

But Sirius took it in stride.

He brought his godson into their home and settled him into his bedroom upstairs, with its window overlooking the garden. He helped him unpack his myriad treasures and trinkets.

He didn’t try to pull the thorns from Harry’s hair. Instead, he worked with dragonhide gloved hands to carefully, gently braid Harry’s hair.


	6. Lies Untold

That summer was glorious. It was spent establishing a lovely garden around the cottage and ill-fated baking attempts that filled the kitchen with smoke and laughter.

And on the odd weekend Harry would go with Sirius and Remus to Sirius’ dreary childhood home, 12 Grimmauld Place. They’d work at removing the dusty old furniture (rather than the equally dusty but infinitely more dangerous dark tomes) while the cranky old house elf glared and berated them, occasionally accompanied by Walburga’s portrait screaming at them without needing to stop for air.

Then, near the end of summer, Sirius had a surprise for Harry. Three tickets to the Quidditch World Cup and an invitation to enjoy it in the minister’s private box.

=====================================================================================

Much like everything in Harry’s life, it was great until it wasn’t.

The cheers and good humor following the match turned into screams and panicked terror. Spell fire burned through the air in every color imaginable. It was chaos, unconfined, and Harry, unfortunately, felt at home in it.

He was calm even as his friends screamed and tried to drag him off to someplace safe. Even as Sirius and Remus exchanged spells with people in long black cloaks and deathly masks that concealed their identities. He grabbed Ron and Hermione by the wrists and pulled them through it with his guardians flanking them.

He did not flinch, and he did not look back, not when spells whizzed an inch from his ears or when the ground exploded just behind them. He kept moving and did not stop until they had cleared the chaos and entered a thicket of trees beyond the field of burning tents.

Draco was there, pale and looking every bit the child he pretended he wasn’t. Harry let go of Ron and Hermione and gathered his friend up in his arms. He was shaking.

Harry held him close and Draco clutched at him, told him that one of the black cloaked figures menacing the place was his father.

From there, they waited for the other Weasleys to show up from where they’d been lost in the chaos. It took what felt like hours for them all to show up, but they did show up. That was the important thing.

They took Draco home to a mother who rushed forward to embrace him and a father who looked at him with an expression that could be read as cold if one ignored the relief in his eyes. They thanked Harry’s little family and the Weasleys too, for bringing Draco home.

=====================================================================================

The last week or so of summer, Harry bounced between the cottage, the Burrow, and Malfoy manor (it was only polite, Remus explained, to take the invitation of someone who owes you their gratitude).

He hoped, not so secretly, that the chaos of the Quidditch World Cup would fade if only for his friends’ sakes, but then the Tournament was announced.

And Harry knew. And Luna looked at him with those clear blue eyes and she Knew. There would be no calm that year either.

=====================================================================================

Neither Luna nor Harry told the others what they knew would happen. They hoped they could at least enjoy the peace up until the names were drawn.

And they did, for the most part.

Harry found himself wary of Professor Moody. The man was just off somehow.

His eye freaked Harry out too. With its piercing blue stare, so different from Luna’s gentle gaze, and the way it swiveled and jerked in its socket made him sick to his stomach.

And that went without mentioning the first lesson he taught. The screams he pulled from the poor creatures he demonstrated the torture curse on, the fear he provoked in Ron, the pain Harry felt while straining to wrest his control back from Moody again and again.

So, yes, Harry was uncomfortable around the man, to say the least.

=====================================================================================

When Halloween came the day after the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students arrived, Harry and Luna were thoroughly unsurprised at the events that transpired. Even with all the failed attempts by younger students that proved it should’ve been impossible for Harry’s name to be put in the cup, let alone to be spit out of it in a belch of blue flame. Even though Harry had made no attempt whatsoever to enter his name. There was no way Harry was going to get through the year without being entered in the Triwizard Tournament.

And so it was.

After Cedric’s name had been called and he’d been ushered out to sustained applause, Harry and Luna made eye contact across the cheering tables. And the Goblet of Fire shook and the flames roared blue and a single piece of paper burst out of it.

Draco turned to him in horror, anticipating what Harry and Luna had been expecting from the get-go. Then his name was called, and silence rang through the hall. Hermione, Ron, and Neville shouted into the quiet while Harry marched himself out, all eyes on him.

He hadn’t considered that he’d be thought a liar. He did not appreciate being called a liar, not by Dumbledore nor any of the other headmasters, not the minister of magic or the other judges.

The other champions looked at first, irritated, then confused, and finally concerned as they watched him argue his innocence.

Harry’s magic was lashing around him more and more the longer he was accused; he needn’t lie to accomplish anything, and he wouldn’t even if he had.

Finally, Moody cut in, explaining how he believed someone may have entered Harry into the tournament with the intent of getting him killed. Harry would’ve been relieved if it had been anybody else. In that moment he desperately wished it had been Snape who had pointed out the obvious, rather than Moody who unnerved him so.

=====================================================================================

The howler Sirius sent the morning after the names were drawn was legendary. He made such vibrant threats against Dumbledore and the other judges that Harry’s head swam with the delightfully horrid imagery they invoked.

But there really was no way to withdraw him at that point. Not without risking his magical ability in the process.

=====================================================================================

Harry was being followed, he was sure of it. He kept seeing them everywhere he went. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

The other champions were shadowing him, it seemed. Going out of their way to keep an eye on him and it made him itch. Their eyes were always on him and they greeted him whenever they caught him catching them. It was strange and infuriating and he didn’t know what to do about it.

Why were they following him?

Finally, finally, he snapped when Cedric smiled so gently at him one day after saying hello as they passed each other in an empty corridor.

He shoved into Cedric’s space and glared up at him with those glowing green eyes all the more vibrant in the low light. He asked, “Why are you following me?”

Cedric looked baffled for a moment before smiling, all the fonder, and going to pat Harry on the head before thanking better of it and patting his shoulder instead, “You’re so young, Harry.”

Harry flushed down to his neck, “And?”

Cedric chuckled, “And we’re worried, me and the other champions; we don’t want you to get hurt in all of this.”

Harry’s glare softened into something else entirely and he felt pressure behind his eyes and before he knew it tears were falling down his cheeks.

He knew people cared about him, that they didn’t want him hurt, but nobody had ever said it so plainly before. The other champions cared about him though they barely knew him. They were worried about the feral looking boy who’d stood before a gathering of adults and he’d been so brave. And they’d seen that he shouldn’t have had to.

Cedric panicked at the sight of his tears, stuttering and flailing, but Harry just grabbed him and pulled him in, clutching him and crying silently. And Cedric held him back even though it hurt.

=====================================================================================

After that, Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor started openly hanging around Harry, joking with him and generally being good company. They even helped him keep up with his homework as the first trial approached.

So, when Harry found out through Hagrid that the first task involved dragons, obviously he told the other champions.

And together they made their plans, with Moody cutting in on one conversation between Harry and Viktor, telling him to “play to his strengths”. But it wasn’t a bad suggestion, so Harry took it under consideration and put together something promising. (Not that the other champions were entirely convinced.)

The day of the first task came and each plan was executed in turn with fairly minor hiccups for Cedric and Fleur.

When Harry stepped into the arena with an angry Hungarian Horntail, he walked as close as he dared and pulled out the flute that Hagrid had gifted him his first Christmas at Hogwarts.

He played a song that he remembered from his early years with the fae. The music had been more than effective at putting him into a dazed trance that allowed him to sleep soundly through the night. And he was confident that it could soothe the dragon for a few minutes at least.

Harry was right, as the ethereal song continued, the dragon’s eyes unfocused and its neck began to sway under it’s large head, back and forth until it gave in to the pull and rested its great head on its claws. Harry was quick to run in, get the egg, and get out.

And the first challenge was done, the clues were retrieved.

=====================================================================================

Before long, it was time to worry about the Yule Ball, but Harry wasn’t stressed about it, not when he realized he could take whoever would be willing to go with him. He knew just the witch.

He didn’t really get why Ron was so upset about the dress robes, he saw that they were different than the ones that everyone else had and he thought the color of the lace was atrocious, but otherwise they seemed normal enough. Harry wanted to help though, and offered to get Ron a new set, but Ron wasn’t having it. Harry didn’t get that either, but let it go.

=====================================================================================

When the night of the Yule Ball finally arrived, Harry came down the grand stairs to meet with the other champions and their dates. Cedric and Cho looked brilliant, as did Hermione and Krum, and Fleur and her date.

Then there was a hush followed by a rush of whispers. Harry turned to see Luna flouncing down the grand staircase in an adorable silvery dress. She looked perfectly herself and Harry felt fond down to his core.

The dancing devolved into the realm of ridiculous surprisingly fast, especially once the Weird Sisters started their performance. Any and all senses of grace dissipated.

Ron snorted butterbeer out of his nose watching Draco and Neville dance ludicrously with Luna swaying behind them. Hermione’s hair fell out of its updo while she was twirling wildly across the dance floor. Cedric lost the outer layer of his dress robes and Cho lost both of her shoes. Fleur ended up abandoning Davies midway through the night and taking Harry and all of his friends one by one to dance a poor imitation of a waltz. She dipped Luna so low that her blonde curls brushed the floor. Krum picked Harry up under his armpits and spun him around.

It was the best night Harry could remember.

=====================================================================================

When Harry was getting ready for bed after the Yule Ball, he pulled out Tom’s diary to tell him about the night he’d had. He even drew a simple picture of Luna in her dress so Tom could see how pretty she was.

Tom thought she looked fine enough.

=====================================================================================

The second task would have been fine. It would have, if not for Dumbledore making the mistake of taking someone precious from a fae raised boy.

Cedric had been given a tip to put the screaming egg under water to get the clue and let the others know as soon as he did.

Harry had spent time discussing strategies for the lake with his friends and the other champions. Neville suggested a plant he’d recently come across: gillyweed. It wasn’t the easiest to access, but when Harry went to Snape on Cedric’s suggestion, he was offered a rare smile and enough of the slimy plant to last the hour.

When Harry fell off the dock grasping at his throat, Neville believed that his plan got Harry killed up until the boy burst up out of the water with gills and flippers.

The world under the lake was so much more beautiful than what Harry could see from the dungeon windows in the Slytherin common room. It was a world with a gleaming ceiling of water and plants that swayed in the current. It was a world of green and blue and black. It was so beautiful and so familiar even in its strangeness.

But Harry didn’t waste too much time admiring the view, he needed to find who’d been taken from him, though he was getting a sinking feeling in his gut when he considered who it probably was. He’d seen Draco when he woke up, before he got ready for the task, and he’d met briefly with Ron and Neville on his way down to the lake. The only ones missing were Hermione and . . . Luna.

So, he wasn’t entirely surprised to find his dear friends floating there side by side. He was, however, enraged.

They shouldn’t have been there. Not for something so trivial as this game, and for something so dangerous as it either.

The merpeople rushed to get out of his way as he swam up to where the champions people were chained in place. He looked, every inch of him, a predator with his glowing green eyes shining through the murk of the lake depths. He looked dangerous and they were not stupid enough to stand in his way with the thorns in his hair lashing about whenever any of them so much as looked in his direction.

Harry cradled Luna’s face in his hands for a long moment until Cedric arrived on the scene to retrieve Cho Chang and then Viktor shortly after for Hermione. They waited together a long time at the lake bottom, waiting for Fleur to arrive, to retrieve her sister, but she never came. So, together, the boys unchained all those trapped at the bottom of the lake and returned to the surface right on time as the gillyweed wore off of Harry. They broke the surface, sputtering and gasping (and Viktor’s case, transforming).

Harry and Luna paddled together back to the shore where they were wrapped with towels and blankets and heating charms. Cedric and Viktor towed the other girls to shore behind them and were treated similarly.

Dumbledore approached to congratulate the champions and Harry saw red. Dumbledore had put Luna and Hermione and Cho and Gabrielle in danger! He’d put people that hadn’t entered into the tournament in danger! He’d put Harry’s friends in danger. And that was unforgivable, more than any curse.

The only thing that stopped Harry from doing something truly stupid in front of the crowd was Luna’s hand placed gently, with intention, upon his wrist. She gave a meaningful look and a slight frown. And that was all it took, plus a not insignificant amount of willpower.

Dumbledore didn’t realize how close he’d been to destruction.

=====================================================================================

The days between the second and final tasks were spent basking in spring sunshine and sharing in each others company.

Harry wrote letters home to Sirius and Remus often and they would send their love back alongside news about how the renovations at 12 Grimmauld Place were going with Harry out of the way. The answer was “about as well as could be expected” since damn near everything in the place was some manner of cursed.

He also wrote to Tom in the diary, describing in minute detail everything that was going on in Hogwarts, including whatever gossip he got from Draco (who enjoyed keeping an ear out for any juicy bits of information about the happenings in the school).

It was nice, peaceful even.

=====================================================================================

Less peaceful was the day of the final task, when the four champions faced the entrance to a maze that took up the entirety of the quidditch pitch.

All of Harry friends, including the other champions, were worried about what would happen, except for Luna who was only as worried as Harry. Which is to say not very. Still, Harry didn’t enjoy having his friends worry about anything, let alone him. So, Harry assured them all that he’d do his best to stay out of harms way during the final task (as if he hadn’t been doing that the whole tournament).

It should have been fine.

=====================================================================================

The maze itself wasn’t too hard for Harry to navigate once he was inside, as much as the judges hyped it up before the task began. And the traps and creatures waiting inside weren’t all that fearsome after the events of the previous years. No, what got to Harry was Viktor appearing to try and take out Cedric once they met up and seeing Fleur be taken over by vines that Harry couldn’t manage to stop in time.

What got to Harry was the faint pulse of magic that he felt as he and Cedric both reached for the cup. It was just enough for Harry to understand that touching the cup would make something happen, something other than the end of the tournament.

So, Harry yanked the cup away from Cedric and felt himself spinning, squished, through the air until he landed hard on the ground somewhere else, somewhere he’d never been.

Before he could get his bearings, he was pressed up against a winged statue of death, held against it by the handle of the scythe tight across his chest.

And out of the shadows came Mad-Eye Moody holding some sort of homunculus creature that made Harry sick to look at.

He felt anxiety build in him as that previously constantly swiveling eye pinned him in place as he approached. And then panic took over him when the man began talking about bones and flesh and blood. He thrashed as the man cut his arm and bled him into a small bowl.

Nothing good could come from that man having his blood. Nothing good at all.

When he dumped the homunculus into the bubbling cauldron after chopping his arm off and tossing it in along with a bone from the grave Harry was standing on and Harry’s own blood, Harry got a sinking feeling that he knew what was coming.

And it was, in fact, nothing good.

The snake-faced Lord Voldemort rose naked from the cauldron before quickly being clothed in a long black robe.

He smiled at Harry and it was all teeth.

“Barty,” the man said, holding his hand out to . . . Moody?

“Barty, come, lend me your arm.”

Moody bowed and came closer so that he could present his uninjured arm to the Dark Lord.

Voldemort yanked up the man’s sleeve and pressed his wand tight into the tattoo that was inked into the man’s forearm. The tattoo darkened and shifted and in an instant the graveyard was filled with a great many popping sounds as people in dark robes and masks apparated in in a circle around them.

Voldemort was quick to punish his followers for their transcreations over the years he’d been without a form of his own. Once he was finished he turned to look at each of them in turn and began to speak about immortality gained through means that would turn the stomachs of those beneath him and respect through fear of his violence, of his strength.

“Harry Potter,” he said, turning to Harry, “Today my followers will enjoy the privilege of witnessing your death.”

And the Death Eaters cheered.

“But Lord Voldemort is generous,” he continued, “I will allow you to die with some dignity, in a proper duel.”

He cast a spell that released Harry and he dropped forward into his knees before scrambling up. Voldemort forced him into a bow under the imperius curse and, as soon as he dropped his wand and mimicked the gesture, Harry saw the cup just a few feet away still thrumming faintly with the power that had brought him to the graveyard.

He held the bow for a second longer and then he ran. He dropped to the ground as Voldemort cast a dark red spell over his head and landed on top of the cup so hard he thought he’d have the indent permanently pressed into his ribs.

As he teleported away in a dizzy spin, Harry could hear Voldemort’s cry of rage.

=====================================================================================

Cedric wasn’t too mad about being left behind once Harry was able to tell him about what happened in the graveyard, though he and Viktor and Fleur did mother hen him for several days after the final task.

He didn’t announce to the world that Voldemort had returned once he came back to the quidditch pitch with the cup in hand. No, instead he smiled for the cameras until they had their fill and split the prize money between Cedric and the Weasley twins. Then he went to talk to Tom.

=====================================================================================

Tom didn’t like the news Harry had to share with him one bit. If Harry was completely honest with Tom, which he always had been, then he’d become a rabid dog some time after making the diary horcrux. He realized that he couldn’t allow Voldemort to continue like that, so he started to tell Harry a tale about a little boy in an orphanage called Wools.

By the end of the tale, Harry was ready to end Dumbledore entirely. It was clear the old man had pushed Tom ever closer to becoming Voldemort from the day they’d met. He’d spat on the opportunity to introduce Tom gently into the wonders of the wizarding world.

But Tom wasn’t done.

_I think Voldemort made more of me after he put me in the diary._

_What do you mean,_ Harry asked.

_I mean, he would have split our soul again and again and he would’ve put the pieces in things like this diary. You need to find them, Harry. I need for you to find them for me._

=====================================================================================

Mad-Eye disappeared after the tournament ended and an investigation was launched to figure out where he’d gone. What they found was Mad-Eye Moody, tired, beaten down, and stripped near naked in a magically expanded trunk in the professor’s office.

The ex-auror explained how he’d been taken down some time after accepting the DADA position and kept in the trunk so his hair could be harvested for the Polyjuice potion that his captor, one Barty Crouch Jr, was taking to impersonate him.

Mad-Eye didn’t know much, but he suspected that Crouch Jr had been planning to bring back the Dark Lord.

=====================================================================================

After Tom had told him about the horcruxes and how Voldemort had almost certainly made more after him, Harry went to Dumbledore.

He told Dumbledore about how he had seen Voldemort rise that night in the graveyard.

And Dumbledore smiled.


	7. Hunting, Hurting, Healing

Dumbledore believed that Harry was in the palm of his hand.

He listened to Harry explain what had happened once he had grabbed hold of the cup in the maze, how blood and flesh and bone had been used to give Voldemort a body once more.

And Dumbledore knew that whatever the boy had been before, he was Dumbledore’s pawn once more.

Dumbledore told Harry that he had a good idea of where to begin the search for Voldemort’s horcruxes, the very objects tying the man to a cursed sort of immortality. He would go forth and find the first before contacting Harry to continue the search.

So, he sent Harry off for the summer and set off himself, for Little Hangleton.

=====================================================================================

Harry quite enjoyed those first few weeks of the summer, visiting with his friends and enjoying the company of Sirius and Remus. Luna came over quite often to have tea and discuss fantastical creatures. He enjoyed her company immensely since he refrained from returning to the fae realm that summer due to the events he’d set into motion.

It was lovely.

Then, toward the end of summer, Dumbledore appeared on the cottage’s doorstep. He was haggard, limping and avoiding using his right hand. He asked to speak privately with Harry and Sirius very nearly slammed the door in his face. But only nearly.

Harry slipped past Sirius out the door and proceeded to take the struggling old man on a walk through the fields and meadows surrounding the cottage, the Burrow, the Rook. It really was a beautiful day and Harry felt it was only right to enjoy it. (And maybe, just maybe, he was feeling a tad bit sadistic and wished to watch Dumbledore struggle through the hike, but he’d never tell.)

He’d found the “first” horcrux, the Gaunt family ring hidden in their little shack in Little Hangleton, It was easy enough for him to retrieve, but he’d been greedy, he said. He’d recognized something in the ring and put it on and activated a curse protecting it. Now, he would die within a few short months.

=====================================================================================

Dumbledore gave Harry the ring, which felt so familiar in his hand, radiating the same energy as the diary that he so loved. Harry wanted to hold it forever, to bask in its magic, but he couldn’t with Dumbledore watching, so he slipped it into his pocket for safekeeping.

He listened as Dumbledore explained that there was another easily accessible horcrux that they could retrieve that very day.

=====================================================================================

Harry recognized the cave that they apparated into, recognized it from Tom’s description of the first place after the Gaunt shack that he’d have hidden one of his horcruxes. It was the cave by the sea that he’d visited a boy in Wools Orphanage.

Harry knew instantly to be on guard for the inferi in the lake before him, the lake separating them from the island he knew rested in its center. Tom hadn’t skimped on the details of what had gone on in the cave all those years ago, nor what he had done in the years between that event and him being placed in the diary.

Harry’s fingers wrapped tighter around the cool metal of the Gaunt ring in his pocket as Dumbledore unmoored the invisible boat and lit the torches he summoned to keep back the inferi. He hoped that the part of Tom in the ring could tell that he was worried, that he intended to help.

They set out across the lake, the pale shapes of the inferi in those dark waters moving just beyond the light cast by the boat’s torches. Harry wondered how many there were. He wondered how heavy the burden of it was on Tom.

=====================================================================================

Harry watched as Dumbledore drank the potion, sip by agonizing sip. And, at the old man’s behest, he began to force the potion down his throat even as he begged him to stop. Harry didn’t stop and he didn’t much care about the begging. He didn’t much care for Dumbledore to be honest.

So he fed the old man the despicable potion and Dumbledore couldn’t do much to fight back in his weakened state, so soon enough the basin was empty except for a gleaming locket resting at the bottom.

Harry knew as soon as he touched it that it was fake. It lacked Tom’s magic which was so evident in the diary and the ring. He didn’t tell that to Dumbledore though, simply dragged the old man upright before he had the chance to disturb the water of the lake and threw him into the boat on the island’s shore.

He held the man’s one functioning hand, pinning it harshly against the side of the boat so he couldn’t stick it into the water and aggravate the inferi lurking there.

Dumbledore begged and moaned the whole way out of the cave and barely managed to apparate them back to the fields around the cottage without splinching them both. Actually, given the rough shout that Dumbledore gave as he collapsed into the grass, he very well might’ve splinched himself.

Harry took a small amount of satisfaction in the man’s pain.

He marched his way back to the cottage to get Sirius to summon Severus, alerting him to the fact that Dumbledore was delirious with pain, collapsed in the meadow. Then he went back out to monitor the man while they waited for Severus to arrive.

Harry watched as the decrepit old man writhed in agony in the dirt, gasping out words of terrible visions plaguing him, probably as a side effect of the potion though maybe that was just the sort of stuff Albus Dumbledore thought about on the daily.

When Severus arrived on the scene, he looked Harry in the eyes and said there was nothing to be done for the man, nothing at all.

And that was a lie.

It was a lie and Harry was happy to hear it from Severus. They were together in this, in letting Dumbledore feel the effects of his actions in what would be his final moments.

The potion had further weakened him and, in addition to the curse, it would kill him very soon.

They watched over him with Sirius and Remus until he gasped out his final breath. They called Poppy Pomphrey and she declared him dead.

Preparations were made for his funeral. It would be a grand affair.

=====================================================================================

Harry could feel Tom’s satisfaction pouring out of the diary at the news as he wrote it out. One massive obstacle to their plans was out of the way. And it was in the form of the man who had ruined him, tempted and tainted him.

=====================================================================================

There was a note in the locket, one addressed to Lord Voldemort from an R.A.B. The note was hoping that once the real locket was destroyed that the Dark Lord would be mortal once more, and vulnerable to death.

Harry’s heart pounded at the thought of losing any amount of Tom’s precious soul, but he breathed in and out and remembered a door he’d seen in 12 Grimmauld Place the summer before when they had been renovating the ancient home. A door that was inscribed R.A.B.

He took the note to Sirius and Sirius held tight to the note, it was his little brother’s handwriting.

He looked at Harry, “How did you get this?”

And Harry told him everything, from finding the diary in second year all the way up until Dumbledore dropped dead.

Sirius clutched Harry to his chest and wept for his brother, his brave little brother who had seen the evil in Voldemort and put himself on the line to defeat him. He wept for his godson, for his good heart which felt for a boy so like him, trapped and separated, alone.

He didn’t quite get how Harry could feel compassion for a boy that would become Lord Voldemort, but he trusted his godson to do the right thing, to know what was right. He agreed to help and took Harry to 12 Grimmauld Place, to talk to Kreacher, the only person Sirius could think of who might know what Regulus had done with the real locket if it hadn’t been destroyed.

Thankfully, it hadn’t been. Thankfully, it was hanging around the elf’s neck. And Harry was able to trade the real locket for the fake from Regulus with a promise that, one way or another, Lord Voldemort would not be as he once was.

Harry patted Kreacher’s back as the elf wept over the locket that his master had made, had died to plant in the cave. Even Sirius pressed his hand against the crying elf’s shoulder. They were both grieving the same loved one in that moment.

=====================================================================================

By then, it was time for school to begin and on the train ride over, Harry cast privacy charms and locked their carriage. And he began to tell the tale that he had told Sirius.

Ron stood up in a huff, when Harry told them what he and Tom wanted to do.

“He killed your parents, and you want to put him back together again, just because he said that Dumbledore made him do it!”

Harry looked Ron in the eye, “Ron, do you remember the basilisk?”

“Of course, I remember the bloody basilisk!”

“Nobody wants to be trapped forever, Ron.”

“Well maybe he deserves it,” Ron shouted back.

Hermione grabbed onto Ron’s arm before Harry could say anything back, “Ron, if what Harry said is true, which you know it is, then Tom Riddle only became Voldemort because he was pushed into it by Dumbledore for years.”

Ron flushed up to his ears and struggled to find the words he was looking for, then the tension bled out of him all at once and he sat back on the bench hard.

“Alright,” he said, “What do you want us to do?”

Harry smiled brilliantly at him and relayed what Tom had told him about what his final horcruxes most likely were. Given that Slytherin’s locket was one of them already, he’d likely made whatever Founder’s heirlooms he could get his hands on into horcruxes as well. So, the next objects they needed to hunt down were Ravenclaw’s diadem and Hufflepuff’s cup, though not Gryffindor’s sword due to Tom’s initial feelings about the house.

“I think I know who to ask about the diadem,” Luna said, smiling softly.

“And I might know where the cup is,” Draco said, when everyone looked at him, he elaborated, “My aunt’s been talking about being tasked with guarding something precious for the Dark Lord.”

“Then we just need a plan to get to it,” Hermione said.

And so, they planned.

=====================================================================================

Luna spoke to the Grey Lady and brought the lot of them to a blank wall in the seventh-floor corridor. She paced back and forth in front of it three times and just when Hermione was about to question what the hell she was doing, a door formed.

The room that they entered into was massive and filled with piles upon piles of seemingly random objects.

“Lost things,” Luna said.

And so, they began to dig through piles of books and quills, brooms and cauldrons, and a great deal of busted up trunks and furniture. Until Neville ran up with a shiny silver object clutched in his hand.

“Is this it?” He asked, holding the tiara out to Luna who nodded and placed it upon Harry’s head. Harry began to weep because it really was, he could feel Tom’s magic reaching out and twining with his, twining with the diary, the locket, the ring.

Neville was quick to wrap Harry up in his arms at the sight of the tears and Luna patted his arm until the tears stopped and Harry put the diadem in his bag with the other horcruxes. There was just one to go.

=====================================================================================

Snape turned a blind eye when Harry and his friends turned up asking for a very particular set of potions ingredients. He didn’t question them, just handed them over and left them to it.

Hermione brewed the Polyjuice brilliantly, and when winter holidays rolled around, they set to work putting their plan into action.

Draco returned home to retrieve a few strands of hair from Bellatrix’s hairbrush. Then he met the others at the cottage. Hermione took the potion and transformed before their eyes. Poor Neville paled at the sight of his dear friend under the guise of the woman who’d tortured his parents to insanity.

From there, Draco and Hermione flooed to Gringotts, leaving the others to wait anxiously for them to return. Which they did, an hour later.

Hermione’s Polyjuice was still going, so they were treated to the sight of Bellatrix Lestrange smiling with all the pure joy and exhilaration that a successful bank heist merited.

Harry whipped out the diary and told Tom that they had them all, finally. Almost all of Tom’s soul was gathered before Harry’s eyes and soon enough he would be whole again.

 _It’s time, Harry_ , Tom wrote.

So, Harry flooed to Snape’s home in Cokeworth, leaving his friends with the promise that he would return soon.

=====================================================================================

Once Harry was in Snape’s home, Snape summoned Voldemort through his dark mark before ducking out of the room as Harry requested.

So, Voldemort apparated into his “follower’s” living room to find his sworn enemy with no Severus Snape in sight.

Before he could get a word out, Harry looked him in the eye and said, “You owe me, Riddle.”

You see, repaying debts is very important to the fae and so to the fae raised as well. So, when Harry Potter looked at Lord Voldemort, the man who’d killed his parents, killed dozens if not hundreds of others, and wrought havoc in the wizarding world, he saw a man in enormous debt. A man who owed him. And he fully intended to collect.

He looked Voldemort in the eyes and spoke his true name, the name that he’d felt in his heart every time he found a piece of Tom over the months he’d sought them and he felt something tear loose in his skull as Voldemort began to scream.

Harry could feel it as the pieces of Tom’s soul left their vessels to snap back into place as part of the whole. And he watched as the man was surrounded by bright white light.

Voldemort and every piece of his soul came together and they—he could feel as every layer of deception that had been pushed onto him peeled back, piece by piece it left his true self bare. Light erupted around him as he went through this transformation, as the madness burned out of him and the dominant portions of his soul, the one’s that were larger which had known Harry as he tended them over the months, took hold.

When the light faded, he was Tom Riddle again, seventeen and clear headed for the first time in many years. His soul _ached_ and he felt some strange awareness of Harry off to his right as he sat on Severus’ rug, trying to make sense of all the conflicting information and perspectives that were still settling in his mind.

He remembered Harry, he’d been trapped, and Harry had come for him, had saved him from the diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, the diadem. He remembered Dumbledore and that he was now dead, could no longer hope to corrupt him and turn him away from his true self, could no longer make him try to be _normal_ , as he had put it.

He remembered _being_ Harry for just a bit, this not quite there presence in the boy’s head that had grown to love him in a fondly exasperated sort of way.

Harry, he realized, had been a horcrux all that time, had been with him almost all his life without knowing it. And the Tom that had been in his head with him had seen how Harry loved the Tom in the diary so very much.

And it loved him back.

Tom loved him back.

Before Tom could tell him all of this, Harry pulled Tom to his feet and dragged him past Severus who was back in the room and to the floo. Harry went through first, calling out, “Black Cottage,” and disappearing in a puff of green flame.

Tom looked up at Severus Snape who was smiling fondly and shaking his head, “Go on, Mr. Riddle. I’ll meet you on the other side.”

Maybe that was strange, but Tom found that he rather liked being smiled at like that. So he stepped into the fireplace and followed Harry to whatever was coming.

=====================================================================================

In between the world of the living and the world of the dead, Dumbledore’s soul wailed into the white eternity of limbo. He’d worked so hard to be bested by two fae raised boys with no sense between them.

His spirit crashed into walls and he beat his fists into the few surfaces available, kicking the benches that were littered about, but it didn’t do him any good.

He’d already lost.

=====================================================================================

Back in Black Cottage, Tom Riddle stepped out of the fireplace into a room full of smiling people and light. Severus Snape’s home was rather dreary and dark, but the cottage was bursting with color and life, so much that it made Tom’s head spin.

Harry was held tight in his friends’ embrace, questioned about what had happened even as he was smothered between them. And his godfathers were watching over him from the kitchen door.

When he heard the floo flare up, Harry turned around and smiled brilliantly at Tom. He pulled him into the circle of friends and introduced them one at a time so that Tom could match faces to names, though he recognized Luna from Harry’s drawing the year before.

He was welcomed into open arms.


	8. The End

In the end, Severus ended up taking in Tom. There was room enough for him in Severus’ home in Spinner’s End and Severus was not averse to his company.

They got Tom a new wand from Olivander’s and took his original, long tainted, wand to the ministry as evidence that Lord Voldemort was gone once and for all.

It took some doing to get the proper paperwork in place, but when school came back into session after winter break, Tom Riddle entered fifth year classes alongside Harry, ready to catch up on any subjects he needed to in order to sit his O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s.

When the time came for graduation, they selected their apprenticeships with care.

Tom was allowed to apprentice under Severus to hone his potions skills until he was ready to apply for his mastery. Meanwhile, Harry went to start a very specialized path in the ministry, wherein, through no small amount of “donating” on Sirius’ part, the Department of Fae Affairs was established, in order to bring fae touched children into the wizarding world as comfortably as possible.

After long nights spent dealing with the Ministry and all the intricate rules it was built on, Harry could expect to return home to his Tom who was always ready with dinner and a smile. They lived together with their friends in the fully renovated 12 Grimmauld Place. Often times they got in at all hours and might not even see each other for days at a time.

But once a week they made sure to gather for a family meal with not only Remus and Sirius, but also Snape. Sometimes even Cedric, Fleur, or Viktor would drop by for a chat if they were in the neighborhood. They’d sit around the dining room table and discuss what was going on in their own worlds.

Remus and Sirius were enjoying their easy lives in the cottage. Hermione was working with Harry in the DFA, throwing herself into the work which she found deeply satisfying.

Ron was working with the twins in their joke shop. Neville was studying under Professor Sprout, looking to get his own mastery in herbology and possibly take the reins from her when it came time for her retirement. Draco was preparing to enter politics and take over the Malfoy family lordship, fully intending to use his power and influence to make the world a place that would be more welcoming to the people he loved.

And Luna was enjoying an exciting career that consisted of magizoological research and being asked, on occasion, to lend her perspective to the DFA.

They felt freer for their efforts. The world they were living in wasn’t perfect, but they were doing what they could to make it better and brighter. And Harry and Tom were happy to be a part of it.

(Though, secretly, Tom was much happier to be part of a family.)


End file.
